


Stay and help me to end the day

by Lumeha



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, or something like that, other characters mentioned but that is clearly just mentions, post-IW, post-thanos, trying to find a new normal after the world changed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeha/pseuds/Lumeha
Summary: His mark, the one that was supposed to show him who his soulmate was, was all kind of obvious now that he knew who Stephen Strange was. But the world and Stephen Strange had all but forgotten how Tony Stark was shown the way to victory and how the Avengers fought for the fallen and the living.That doesn't stop him from visiting the New York Sanctum.





	Stay and help me to end the day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Forsythefrontier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forsythefrontier/gifts).



> This is my gift for Forsythefrontier for the Ironstrangehaven gift exchange ! :) I decided to mix the two prompts I got, since I got inspired by both, even if I maybe changed them a little ? Well. I am happy with the result !
> 
> The title is taken from Stay by Pink Floyd 
> 
> Prompt 1: Anything involving Soulmates- markings, seeing color for first time, a timer, first words, etc.
> 
> Prompt 2: Probably more for a fic, but everyone forgot about the snap except for the original avengers, and so Tony decides to visit Stephen. As he guessed, Stephen doesn't remember him after telling him everything, but that doesn't stop him from visiting the wizard every chance he gets.

Tony looked down at his left arm, a storm of blue butterflies cascading down from his shoulder to his hand, geometrical patterns coursing and winding between them, and the anatomical markings that were drawn along his fingers, muscles and nerves etched on his skin. He always appreciated his mark. For all he never fully put his faith in soulmates and how strange drawings that grew with the body were a way to find them, he appreciated his. 

The rare people who saw it always commented on the size ; it was commonly said that the more important the mark, the greater the impact the matched could have on each others and the world. Most marks were small, discreet, smaller than a hand. His took a full limb. But, if he had hoped, maybe, once, that these old wives tales were the truth, he knew better than to believe in them the older he grew. 

It was so obvious, now that he knew. It was hilarious, in a not-so-funny way. A yellow and black kind of laughter, tinted in breathlessness and sadness. His mark couldn’t have been more plain and obvious, and the man couldn’t have left a greater impression on the world and on himself. And now, now the world had forgotten all about it, about the war and the blind hecatomb that destroyed it. 

The world and Stephen Strange had all but forgotten how Tony Stark was shown the way to victory and how the Avengers fought for the fallen and the living.   

**~x~x~x~**

The door opened, and no one was there to hold it. Magic. A surge of affection coursed through Tony’s veins, despite all his fears of it. Without waiting for another invitation, he stepped inside, taking the entry hall in its pristine glory. Much better without the Hulk-shaped hole in the roof, he had to say. More cosy and museum-like. Comfortable. Safe, almost, despite the energy thrumming in the walls and the floors. 

He was trying to get a look into another room when he heard footstep in the stairs. He couldn’t help but blink, once, twice, trying to keep his breath even, looking at the sorcerer going down to meet him.

There was no recognition in these eyes. He knew that this would happen and, still, the realization stung, needles piercing his lungs and making his heart beat in a misstep. 

\- What does Tony Stark want from us ?   
\- … I was around and got curious, he answered with a half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Strange looked at him, one eyebrow raised. His cape fluttered as if a breeze was passing through - not enough to look alive, but just enough to be noticeable. Ah, the good old cape. Was it trying to determine if he was a threat ? Or just trying to make its master more imposing, while not making it obvious it was sentient ? He was not sure he would have noticed the movement, had he not already been aware of its sentience. 

\- This is the only place in New York that makes GPS and any other kind of scanner go absolutely crazy, I had to see it by myself, you know ? he ended up saying in the awkward silence.   
\- It didn’t look like that while you were waiting by the door.

Ah, the observant bastard. He offered him a blinding smile that did nothing but make the sorcerer scoff. Strange finished going down the stairs to stand in front of him, lips set in a thin line. 

\- You knew this place.   
\- Maybe ?   
\- Look. I can see it. You know this place, and… you know me, from what I can tell. But I don't know you.   
\- Everyone knows me !

The good doctor was giving him an annoyed look. And, maybe, in other circumstances, he would have tried to deflect even more. At that moment, he just didn’t feel like it. He didn’t need to clash with the sorcerer and get kicked out of the Sanctum. 

\- We met, but you don’t remember. I will tell you. Just. Just not now, Doc.

The good doctor nodded, curiosity in his eyes. 

\- I understand. But I have to ask you to leave right now. I have groceries to do. 

It was so mundane. He imagined the sorcerers to magic up everything they needed. Protecting reality and whatever else they usually did could not be a very nicely paying job. He did not really have the time to ask any questions about Strange’s day to day life when facing the threat of Thanos. 

Under his eyes, he saw the cloak transform itself into a scarf, complementing the stupidly casual cardigan and jeans the Sorcerer was wearing and that he didn't notice under the red outerwear. Strange walked toward the door, and he followed, bringing down his sunglasses on his nose. 

\- Mind if I come with you? I want to pick up some coffee. 

There were so many questions in Strange's gaze. But in the end, he shrugged and motioned him to follow. The quiet invitation to come back to the Sanctum, when they went their separate ways, was a soft blessing that he didn’t expect from Strange. 

(His smile, true and warm, was his blessing to the sorcerer)

**~x~x~x~**

With the workshop, the Sanctum became his hiding place. The door always opened for him, and he often ended up in the kitchen, sharing food and drinks with Stephen and Wong, over coupons and notebooks and bickering. With Peter following him and ending up with his homework on the table. Rhodey, who knew about everything that happened because he had been there to fight, and couldn’t help but be want to know more about who Stephen Strange was. Even Pepper, strong and beautiful and maybe a little bit curious, who knew before he told him anything that he met his soulmate, and who got along with Wong to the terror of both Stephen and himself. Despite the stern looks they all got the first time they came, and heated discussions about magic and how the knowledge should be given to outsiders, they slowly carved their place in the Sanctum. 

He was there with food when the sorcerers came tumbling from portals, sometimes bleeding, sometimes covered in awful gunk that smelled as bad as it looked, and more often than not, Stephen in worse shape than Wong, to the librarian (concerned) annoyance. There for the day to day, seeing the Sanctum slowly but surely get more and more lively, with its critters and the pair of apprentices the Master took under his Cloak. There for his own curiosity, the exchanges that went longer and longer the more he stayed, and the fascination of FRIDAY with magic. And the Sanctum was there for him when the world felt like a dying dream that would explode back into the nightmare of Thanos. 

It was his new normal. Workshop, Sanctum, time spent with Stephen, Wong, Peter, Pepper, Rhodey, Vision, FRIDAY, and a too lively Cloak, around food cooked by one of them or take-out, books, magic, science and saving the world with the other Avengers from petty villains with too big appetites. And if a corner of his workshop ended up as an extension of the library of the New York Sanctum, and if the Sanctum found a corner for his experiments, well, who was there to say it was a problem ?

It felt like home, much more than it should. 

The anxiety of hiding his mark and hiding the truth was coiled in his throat, suffocating. He needed time, he told himself. Time, and a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he could have, when they were surrounded by friends and family. Opening up and showing himself 

**~x~x~x~**

It took two, three, four more months until he could no longer hold it. Neither of the sorcerers tried to pull it out of him, and he had been grateful for that. 

Strange and him were alone for the evening. Wong was kept by his duties at the Kamar Taj library and left asking them to not force him to come back to help them calm down another magical crisis caused by a relic or another that would find itself in Tony’s hands. The “it was one time !” protest muttered by the engineer was only answered by silence and a closed door.

It was just them and the Cloak in the kitchen, table covered in takeout boxes, papers (including some forgotten notes by none other than Peter Parker), coffee stains and cups of tea. The silence that stretched between them was comfortable, rythmed by the rustling of pages and the typing on his StarkPad. 

Tony watched Stephen put back his book on the table and stretch his arms. And the utter weirdness of the situation hit him, pain coiled in his chest and throat. It was reality. Not a dream. Not a lie. The sorcerer was here, breathing, sharing his space and meal with him. Knowing he had a secret that he hadn’t spilled, but waiting for him to be ready. 

When the sorcerer raised his gaze to look at him, he knew it was the right moment. 

\- I saw you die. Just in front of me. Disappeared. Poof. Just like that. You, and Peter, and those weirdos of the Galaxy. Disappeared in the wind.    
\- What happened ?

So he spilled it. Spilled it all. The portal. The battle. The infinity of space that held their suffering. Thanos and the snap, the unthinkable sacrifice ; he could see, in Stephen’s face, the curiosity about it all. He told them he would do anything to protect the Time Stone, and it ended up being him that was protected ? (Later, standing at the edge of a universe that didn’t knew it died, he understood - he just wished that the man who saw it all was there to see how they won).

The touch of a trembling hand on his shoulder was welcomed with a weary sigh. He leaned into it, seeking the reassuring cold of Stephen’s skin. 

\- There is… something else, too. 

His hand stopped on his sleeve, waiting for the sorcerer to back off or ask questions. But the other man looked at him without a word, just his hand on his shoulder and warmth in his eyes. Slowly, Tony uncovered his arm, removed the gloves that he often wore to hide it. 

\- Some people get that stupidly symbolic thing that could mean anyone. I thought that was what I had. But…

Stephen's eyes went along his arm, followed the waterfall of butterflies, currents of eldritch energies and the map of veins and muscles along the back of his hands. 

\- But that is how my magic sometimes manifests. And the hands…   
\- Look I…

A shush and a slight roll of the eyes cut him and left him silent. 

\- If anything, Tony, I understand my own mark much better, now that I got to know you.   
\- Show me ? 

An amused smile danced on the sorcerer’s lips, before he removed both his cardigan and his shirt. Tony raised an eyebrow, before catching his breath when he finally saw it. 

At the center of Stephen’s chest, the mark spread itself. Etched with a delicate precision was a heart, glorious and glowing, fractured and broken and still oh so beautiful, tinted in red and blue. It had the golden opulence of Italian baroque and, still, in its lines, the curve of a future carved in metal. 

He couldn’t get his eyes to search around the rays running from the heart, too fascinated by that broken and reconstructed heart. He had never imagined that this would represent him ; he knew, deep in his bones, that this was his mark on Stephen’s chest, despite it not looking like anything he would have imagined on the skin of his matched.

\- Ostentatious, I have to say, he said in a light tone.   
\- Well, you do fly around clad in red and gold, Tony.

A laughter fled from his throat, light and airy, full of relief.

An arm went around his waist, and Stephen drew him toward him, a trembling hand resting on his wrist. It was not natural for them, to collapse and crash in each others’ orbit, and they had to take the time to carefully arrange their limbs so Tony could fall gracelessly on Stephen’s lap. 

\- I don’t remember what happened, and I don’t think I ever will. But I know you. And the Sanctum will always be there for you, Tony. I will always be there for you. 

The sorcerer kissed the temple, and started gently supporting and stroking the back of his matched’s neck. With a trembling breath, Tony put his head on the other’s shoulder, a shiver coursing through his back. 

\- Rest with me tonight ?   
\- In your awful, awful haunted house ?   
\- Sanctum Sanctorum, Stephen corrected with a smile in his voice.   
\- Awful, awful haunted house. You have a ghost dog. And a living carpet. And…   
\- And a Master of the Sanctum who is inviting you to rest here.

Tony felt safe, against the sorcerer, blurred sight following the rays sketches on his chest. Tiredness fell on his shoulders, gnawing at his bones, and he moved himself to be more comfortable. 

\- I think that is a yes. Come on, Levi, help me carry him in my room. 


End file.
